Hell on Earth
by Hockey35
Summary: This is the story documenting the crimes of a horrible UnSub told through the eyes of his only living victim. It will eventually involve all the members of the team. This is all based on a weird dream I had so bear with me. PLEASE R&R!
1. Chapter 1

_**Please Note I do not own Criminal Minds, any of the characters, or any other copyrighted content that appears in this story. This is just based off my own personal musings after a vivid dream after watching the show. Rated T for Language and Intense Content.**_

Adrenaline surged through my veins as I scrambled back to my feet in an effort to take advantage of this opportunity to get away. To escape his hold. I had been there for so long I had forgotten what the grass smelled like and what it felt like to have the sun's warmth wash over you. I had been there long enough to lose hope about ever being free again. The bastard would sit us down in our cage and play the new for us; taunting us with the media releases from the BAU about their progress on the case.

Every day is was something new, some different lead, but every day it was wrong. Not by much, but enough to make a difference. Enough to kindle that small flicker of hope while extinguishing the fire. For three months I sat in that dank basement in the middle of the Southern California valley, praying and hoping that one of these brave people I saw taunting me on the television would come busting through that bolted door that only one man came through. Every week I would watch as he collected another girl from the basement for her to never return and every week I would sit there, wondering when it would be my turn.

I still remember how he smelled, how he breathed, how he moved, how his skin felt brushing against mine. He reeked of beer and ash, breathed heavily and hotly, moved slowly and lazily, and his skin felt like sandpaper against mine as he forced me to move with him.

I still kick myself for not reacting sooner as soon as I heard the breathing and smelled the booze while walking home that night. For not screaming louder or kicking harder as his rough hands closed over my mouth and nose. For not being able to hold my breath longer before passing out. For being a damned damsel in distress. The counselors tell me not to take it to heart, that there was nothing I could do, that this wasn't my fault, but I know they're full of shit. They all blame me for what happened to those other girls; for not finding a way out sooner.

But anyway, I digress. Back to escaping.

The light burned into my retinas as the door swung open. The last of the girls was taken up there – last except for me. We had agreed that whoever went first would fight and struggle against him to give the other the window of opportunity we needed. The news had said that the FBI agents were finally coming closer to figuring out where we were. They were actually within a ten mile radius, if our own approximations of our location were correct, which meant this was our one and only chance.

I still remember her name – Rebecca – and how her dark brown hair still seemed to glimmer despite our less than favorable conditions. She had been there longer than I had and was a few years older than me. Every time we heard the door rattle she would say a quick prayer that it would be someone to save us and not _him._

It seemed, however, that her prayers would be unanswered. The last time I saw her alive she was praying amidst her flailing and screaming. She was praying that I would get out safe, praying for the strength to hold him off, praying that I would be found by someone who was willing to help me. Someone was apparently listening to her because it didn't take me that long to be found.

Rebecca bucked and struggled against our captor the moment he had the door open, sending them both toppling back down the stairs and giving me the opening to make my way out. Tears streamed down my face as I left her there to die. I still hear her blood curdling screams as he cut her throat in the stillness of the night on occasion. But in that moment I knew I had to keep pushing, keep running, keep fighting because if I didn't… well, I'll leave what would have happened up to your imagination. Trust me, I've played it out in my mind hundreds of thousands of times and none of it turned out well for me.

It was hard to run after sitting in that dank basement for months without proper sustenance, but I kept running until I collapsed and rolled off the dirt road. I'm not proud of the fact that I drank greedily from the muddy puddle I landed in, but it kept me going for those few extra feet I needed to wander in order to be saved.

And in case you're wondering, I do still remember the way the sun glinted of the black finish of that large SUV as it sped towards me. I remember the dread building in my chest as I realized I had no way of knowing if this was someone there to help me or someone to take me back to hell, but I found my legs unresponsive as I simply dropped to my knees and surrendered to my fate.

I'm not sure if I was crying or not; I was too dehydrated for actual tears, but my body was shaking either out of overwhelming fear, hysterical laughter, or gross sobbing. It doesn't really matter because the next thing I remember is a tall, dark haired figure approaching me, pulling his jacket from his shoulders as he crouched down in front of me and wrapping it around my weakened frame.

His voice cut through the air like gravel, startling me out of my fatigued stupor as my eyes drifted upward towards him. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but his piercing eyes and the ferocity in his face told me that I was safe. That the bastard wasn't going to get me again. Before I knew what was happening, I was clinging to him and sobbing heavily as he called for backup and informed someone on the other end of a phone line that I was safe, that they needed paramedics and hospital transport.

I didn't have the strength – or maybe it was the heart – to tell him that he needed to call for the coroner, too. I just sat there in his arms, clinging to him for dear life, trying to erase the last three months from my mind in a desperate attempt to escape the sorrow and pain. I could have sworn I was close to succeeding until the sirens wail echoed and intruded on my mental process.

Every time I try to forget I hear those damned sirens, ruining everything.

The moments ensuing were a blur. You would think I would remember every detail of my rescue as well as I do of my captivity, but I couldn't resist the welcome arms of peaceful sleep now that I was safe in the back of the ambulance with my rescuer next to me, his jacket still wrapped around my lithe form. I won't pretend it was a restful sleep, but it was sleep, so I didn't complain.

By the time the backup arrived, he was long gone. My captor was on the loose and I didn't even know his name or his face. Knowing how he smelled, breathed, moved, and felt did no good in helping them identify him and it certainly didn't do anything to assuage my own demons and allow me to have peace, but it was all I could do.

The protective custody did no good. Sleeping in my parents' house didn't help. Having my mother and father holding my hand every night as I fought through my nightmares did nothing to make me feel safe. Even my rescuer couldn't make me feel safe. No one could erase the images of the girls who had been thrown into that basement with me, who had been taken away so abruptly, who had died so that only I could get away.

So, I need to apologize for lying earlier. This isn't a story about my escape.

This is a story of me escaping one nightmare just to end up in another.

This is a story about condemnation; swift and unwarranted.

This is a story about hell.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Please Note I do not own Criminal Minds, any of the characters, or any other copyrighted content that appears in this story. This is just based off my own personal musings after a vivid dream after watching the show. Rated T for Language and Intense Content.**_

Months passed and I was slowly making progress. The phone calls from every local and major news outlet across the nation eventually died down to an inconvenient trickle and I had gotten brave enough to attend the local community college again. My captor was still on the loose and the FBI was long gone, but both local and state officials had assured me and my family that they would find him. I knew it wasn't true, but I pretended to believe them and acted like it gave me some kind of solace. No need to have my parents fret over me more than they already had.

It was worse around my friends. The few of them who could stand to spend time with me without being weirded out by what had happened treated me like I was made of plate glass, ready to just break apart. No guy would dare to even look at me. I think they were afraid they would be accused of being the one who had taken me, as stupid as that sounds. I stopped worrying about it because I knew I wasn't ready for anything like that. Not for a long time.

Life continued at a mundane pace and my schedule became maddeningly redundant. Go to school, go to counseling, go to work, go to church on the weekends. Lather, rinse, repeat.

It wasn't like I needed some excitement in my life – Lord knows I had already had enough of that – but I was sick of being the porcelain doll trapped inside her plastic box. At that point, even breaking would have been a welcomed change.

I should have listened when my parents to be careful what I wished for as a child.

It wasn't but three weeks later when the Inland Empire was rocked by a new crime. One of the guys in my Literature class, Tim, had been disemboweled and dismembered across the campus soccer field. He was a nice boy; athletic, blonde, not too bright but certainly not dumb. He had lost a baseball scholarship to USC after tearing his rotator cuff in a high school alumni game, but he wasn't bitter.

Tim was one of the few people in my class who would talk to me and even wanted to be my partner on our group projects. I didn't care that it was likely out of pity, I just enjoyed the company.

My overactive paranoia tried to convince me that this wasn't random, that is was the one guy who would talk to me for a reason. It took a week of mental turmoil for me to convince myself it wasn't him and to stop jumping at every shadow. Security was increased at the school and life moved on.

Four months later not much had changed. Tim's case file was lumped into the same stack as my own: unsolved. As people fixated on his case, they started to forget about mine and making friends became easier. Jessice, a sophomore at the college who was from Nebraska, hadn't heard much about my story despite its national attention. She didn't ask me what happened, didn't guard her words to keep from triggering something, and she certainly didn't treat me like I was made of porcelain.

For the first time in almost a year I felt like an actual human being, but again, it wasn't meant to last.

I remember how my ringtone, Last Resort by Papa Roach, cut through my slumber and jerked me awake. To this day I haven't been able to listen to that song.

Her voice was slurred so badly I could almost smell the whiskey through the phone. Thankfully she hadn't been drunk enough to forget that she could always call me for a ride home.

Then again, driving home drunk would have been a welcomed alternative to what happened.

Jessica, always wanting to do something new, had agreed to go to a house party up in the mountains behind the valley we lived in. It wasn't that big of a deal other than the fact that there were no street lights to illuminate the winding roads in the dead of night. However, the eerie glow of the full moon allowed me to see a few extra feet past my headlights.

It took me about forty-five minutes to get to the address which turned out to belong to an unfinished house with no tenants and no electricity. I should have known there wouldn't be a legitimate party in these lavish homes, but I simply rolled my eyes and pulled my black Nissan Versa into the driveway. By the time I had gotten there, it seemed everyone else had already left. I quickly realized that Jessica was probably inside, passed out, so I decided to be lazy and call her. However, as usual, there was no cell service up in the mountains, so I was forced to get out of my car and search for her.

The cool night at bit at my skin raising goose bumps as I wrapped my arms around myself and walked into the house. The few embers left from the fire fizzled out as thin clouds of smoke clung to me. The smell managed to mask the strong stench of liquor, so it was welcomed.

"Jessica! Come on! I'm tired and I want to go home!" My voice echoed through the house but went unanswered, so I continued to wander.

As I made my way through the house I heard a sloshing sound from the backyard. "You're not getting into my care if you're thro-"

My entire body froze as I turned the corner to the backyard. There, glowing under that ghostly moon light, was Jessica's disemboweled and dismembered body. Her attacker stood next to her, hands dripping with blood.

The smell of his warm, beer laced breath carried on a breeze towards my face. He turned towards me in a lazy and slow fashion. I could see the rough texture of his skin across the yard, the moonlight creating shadows in the ridges.

"You…"

The word slipped out on an involuntary gasp as my body began to tremble. I tried to convince myself this was still a coincidence; that it wasn't about me, until he spoke those damned words.

"Hello, Annie. I've missed you."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Please Note I do not own Criminal Minds, any of the characters, or any other copyrighted content that appears in this story. This is just based off my own personal musings after a vivid dream after watching the show. Rated T for Language and Intense Content.**_

It was at that point that I became unable to discern between the chills caused by the crisp air and those from the sound of his voice grating out across the space between us. The phrase 'like a deer caught in the headlights' took on real meaning for me as my entire body froze in his unyielding gaze. No matter how much I willed my feet to move they refused to obey. It was beyond infuriating, but being angry with my uncooperative limbs was the least of my concern at the moment. "H… how did you find me?" It angered me how weak my voice came out, but could you really fault me?

"Find you? I never lost you."

All the blood must have gone to my head in a panicked rush of adrenaline because all I could hear after that was the rapid beat of my own heart. The only thing I could keep track of was his body language, which wasn't easy to do with only the aid of the shimmering moonlight which was now streaked thanks to some rogue clouds. There was still, however, the glint of his knife which slowly drip, drip, dripped with Jessica's blood onto the gravel below our feet, which only pulled my attention away from his body language more often.

It wasn't until he took a few steps towards me that my body started to cooperate. Well, cooperate may be the wrong word. React and work on its own volition is probably a better description of what happened. No matter what you want to call it, I can easily say that it led to me running harder than I have ever run in my life. I could hear him keeping up with me easily over the rocky terrain, stumbling behind me with his knife in his hand.

I felt his hand close around the collar of my shirt, choking me as he yanked me back and threw us both to the ground. I kicked and flailed and screamed as the tears and sobs threatened to overcome me. I didn't stop even when I felt his knife biting into the flesh of my left bicep. It was clear that he wasn't intending to damage his prey, so I took that moment of shock to kick him away, clamor to my feet, and run through the house as I screamed loud enough to attract any nearby mountain lions.

My eyes remained trained behind me, searching for _him. _I turned sharply to look forward as a dark figure manifested in front of me, wrapping their inescapable arms around my already frantic form. I screamed louder and pounded against his chest as the tears finally poured down my face. My throat began to close up as those horrible months in that damned basement flashed back in front of me. I was ready to throw myself against his knife to just escape the hell when the steady voice – the protective, warm voice that was so unlike _his_ cut through my terror. Slowly I forced myself to calm down as I looked up with tear filled eyes and realized that it was a policeman.

One of the neighbors had apparently reported the partygoers and he had loathsomely made his way up the mountainside abode. I wanted to be mad at him for not getting there as soon as he had received the phone call, but I was just too relieved that there was someone there to save me and that I wouldn't have to go through this alone.

They tell me I went into shock after that, which makes sense because I remember very little of what followed other than blurs of blue and red lights accompanied by the wail of sirens and the pestering of paramedics as they stitched up my arm. They carted me away – much to my own chagrin because I wanted to wait until they found the bastard – to keep me overnight. My parents were out at Lake Tahoe, so I didn't complain too much being kept under watched guard in a hospital. However, it wasn't exactly restful. All I could think of the entire time was seeing Jessica's body and knowing that the reason she and Tim were dead was because of _me. _

Again, the counselors would tell me it wasn't my fault, but again we all know that's total bull shit. If it wasn't for this asshole's fixation on me, there would be two more people alive. Two more wonderful people who didn't deserve to be dealt the hand they were given.

The only upside to the shock was that I didn't realize how quickly time was moving and I was in the hospital before I even knew it. My arm throbbed, but it was the least of my concerns. The physical wounds were so much easier to repair than the damned mental and emotional scars they left behind.

Worst of all was what I heard whispered between the cops. That one abbreviation that told me that we were all in deep trouble:

FBI.

They were coming back, hopefully to finish the case. Protective custody was being ordered, my parents were being kept in Tahoe because being near me was apparently a death sentence, and I would be questioned rigorously.

Yay.

Oh and did I mention that this all happened exactly two weeks before my twenty-second birthday?

Happy birthday to me…

At least I would have some old friends to keep me company.

I didn't even bother wishing for a cake or extravagant presents. I just wanted some peace of mind and safety for my birthday.

If only it was that fucking easy.

Oh, did I mention? They still hadn't found him other than a blood trail leading back towards the valley that ended somewhere in the wooded areas on the mountainside.

Happy birthday to me…

After sitting up in that bed for three hours without moving one of the nurses had enough empathy to bless me with enough morphine to knock me out and let me sleep. Apparently I would need my rest because _they_ would be here in the morning.

The BAU.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Please Note I do not own Criminal Minds, any of the characters, or any other copyrighted content that appears in this story. This is just based off my own personal musings after a vivid dream after watching the show. Rated T for Language and Intense Content.**_

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I'm super busy with school. I've got 2 chapters written, so I'll post them ASAP**_

I couldn't tell you exactly when they arrived, but when I woke up I found one of them sitting next to me. Her blonde hair was pulled gently up into a ponytail that made her soft facial features stand out. Immediately I could feel the tension tighten in my chest even as the fear seemed to ebb away. She sat there, ever patient. I'm sure that's why she was the one who handled the media, but I couldn't figure out why that made her the one to come see me.

Maybe they thought having a woman would be more comforting than having a man there, but all I could see was another woman to end up in his basement.

"Hey, Annie. I don't know if you remember me. My name is-"

"Agent Jareau. JJ. You're with the BAU." My voice was soft but there was still determination left in me. Did they really think I would ever forget any of them? Any of it?

She let the silence encompass us while I tried to regain my bearings. There was that annoying fatigue that always lingered after drug induced sleeps, but other than that I was alert. "I need to get home. I have classes to study for and a cat to feed."

I heard JJ sigh as I pulled myself out of the hospital bed and slid my shoes back onto my feet. I didn't even bother looking for my blood stained shirt and just resigned to wearing the scrubs they had given me.

"I'll take you home to gather some of your things, but we need to move you to a safe location. Your parents are under police protection in Tahoe until we get this situation resolved." JJ stayed with me every step of the way. I think she knew I just wanted to run. However, I had no intention of resisting the FBI.

Better in a safe house than a jail cell.

Turned out I had already been signed out into police custody at the hospital, so I was shuffled into one of those oh-so very familiar SUVs they loved to travel in.

"Agent Prentiss."

My acknowledgment of the brunette sitting in the driver's seat was less than exuberant which is why I think the two women were silent the entire ride to my home. They reminded me we were only here to gather the necessities, to which I insisted my cat was indeed a necessity.

I stacked up my piles of clothes while my cat snoozed in my open suitcase, not concerning himself with the orange tufts of fur he was leaving behind to cover my clothes. Once he and my wardrobe were packed up, all that was left were the items in my bathroom.

Yes, I could have just bought a new tooth brush and more shampoo, but I needed _my_ things to save my sanity.

What I found inside, however, I could have done without.

Scrawled across my mirror in I don't want to know what was a message from _him. _The red color of his writing stood out harshly in contrast with my otherwise orange bathroom, capturing my attention.

"Until next we meet… you WILL be mine."

Emily's voice startled me out of my frozen state and JJ was there to quickly usher me away. They called in a crime scene unit to secure the area as the two agents rushed me to the police station while the safe house location was changed. They were worried about something being compromised, so I was forced to wait patiently in a small room I think was intended for interrogations. My cat meowed sadly from his crate, but I didn't move. Letting him out would have just taunted time.

Kind of like letting me out of that basement just to suck me back in.

I realized what a sad reflection of my life that had become, but didn't have time to dwell on it as yet another agent walked in.

"Doctor Reid, right?" His hair was longer and was wearing an awful pair of glasses last time I saw him, but the youthful – yet troubled – naivety still exuded from him.

"Good memory." It was an ironic comment – or maybe it wasn't irony, I was too tired to really care – coming from the man with an eidetic memory. Still, it made me smile, which made me realize how rarely I had done that in the past few months as my muscles contracted and pulled the corners of my mouth upwards just in turn served to make me more depressed.

Rascal, my neglected tabby, whimpered dejectedly as I watched Reid observe me. I couldn't help but wonder if he was profiling me, but wouldn't dare ask.

"So, are you my new babysitter?"

His gentle laughed eased my nerves, but his answer didn't really convince me. "I just figured it would be good to keep you company and see if maybe you wanted to talk?"

That unsure hesitation was still in his voice, mixed in with the rushed words, which made it nigh impossible to tell him no, even though I just wanted to forget.

I mean, what did he want me to say? That I regret escaping from that basement because now two people were dead for talking to me? That in that moment when I thought _he _had caught me I was ready to throw myself against his knife just to make it stop? That there hadn't been a day where I hadn't thought about ending it all since breaking out of that basement?

That everything was crumbling around me?

"I'm fine." My voice came out sharper than I had intended and the profiler knew I was lying before the words even came out. "How would you feel if everyone you knew, that you cared for, ended up dead for it? I should have stayed in that basement and died with those other girls. I shouldn't be alive." My voice fell as my eyes drifted to focus on my trembling hands that rested on top of the table. I could feel the pity exuding from him, which only made me more disgusted with myself.

Reid gave me a soft look as he seemed to chew on his words. "I would be a mess." For some reason, I believed he was being honest. "But you aren't and that's what matters. You're alive and we're going to keep you that way." He squeezed my hand awkwardly before excusing himself to answer his buzzing phone.

I'm still not sure whether I wanted him to stay or not.

I don't know how long I was actually in that room, but it felt like days before the oldest agent on the team, David Rossi, came in to escort me to the vehicle. Even though he looked the part, he seemed to be uncomfortable – if only slightly – around people young enough to be his kid.

Or maybe it was just me. It wasn't like I was very easy to talk to, what with my withdrawn and cold nature. I told myself it was because I was trying to protect everyone else, but I knew it was really because I was losing my ability to function in society.

_He_ had taken so much from me already.

We sat silently in the SUV while he drove me around until I realized we had finally made our way back into the mountains. I won't pretend it didn't unsettle me to be heading back up there, but we weren't headed anywhere near where the part was, so I did my best to shake it off.

"We're here."

Agent Rossi's voice, which still held that slight New England accent, snapped me back to reality as we pulled through an iron rod fence. I took a deep breath as we pulled into the garage and waited for the door to close completely before getting out of the car.

The first thing I did was let my poor cat out, who proceeded to seek out his litter box and hide inside of it. I could empathize with his need to escape, but I didn't exactly have a box to go hide inside of.

The house was so empty I felt like my heartbeat would reverberate off the walls along with my timid footsteps. I only took a moment to dump my bag inside my room before making my way towards the commotion in the kitchen.

All I could make out was the smooth and deep voice of Derek Morgan ordering people to take different positions around the house to check for any holes in security. "Check the blind spot on the south side." He put down the walkie he was talking into just long enough to give me a blindingly white smile before returning to his work.

I won't even pretend that I minded the attention from him. He was beyond gorgeous.

I sighed boredly before returning to my room and collapsing to my bad. Rascal had found his way to me and has burrowed himself inside my covers, snoring softly. I couldn't help but feel hopeless in that moment. Instead of _him_ being in a jail cell it was me trapped inside this damned house.

Again I was interrupted from my contemplation, this time by a demanding knock at my door. The roll of my eyes couldn't be prevented as I pulled myself off the bed and opened the door.

There, standing in front of me, was the tall, dark haired man with the gravelly voice who saved me.

"I'm so sorry this is happening again."

It was Agent Hotchner.

It was my rescuer, back to protect me.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Please Note I do not own Criminal Minds, any of the characters, or any other copyrighted content that appears in this story. This is just based off my own personal musings after a vivid dream after watching the show. Rated T for Language and Intense Content.**_

"Do you feel like talking or would you rather I come back later?"

I blinked at him, trying to sort through the array of flashbacks that resulted from seeing him again so that I could give him a coherent response.

"I… uh… now. Now is good."

I followed him into the den where we were afforded enough privacy for him to interrogate me. Oh, I'm sorry. I mean interview me. Was there really a difference?

"Reid told me about your conversation earlier." Hotch's tone was flat and informative instead of inquisitive or demanding like I had expected. He didn't say anything else about that, thank God. "Have you noticed anyone following you around? Has anyone taken interest in you as of recently?"

I scoffed. "Other than news reporters and cops you mean?" My arms folded over my chest defensively before I continued. "No. No one has even spoken to me since… except for Tim and Jessica. And now they're both dead."

Silence fell over us for too long and I started to feel like I was suffocating, forcing me to break the reverie. "I don't blame any of you."

The words came out without m permission. Sure, I had been tossing them around in my head, but I had intended to keep them up there.

Oh well.

"You did your best and I certainly can't hold you accountable for a mad man's actions." The words tumbled out of my mouth in an almost unintelligible ramble. I could feel the tears building up, making me realize I couldn't stop or they would surely fall.

I couldn't break again.

"I just… wanted you to know that."

Again the silence surrounded us – only for a few seconds, but long enough for me to draw in on myself.

"We will find him. We won't leave this just to the locals this time. We _will_ find him."

Hotchner's voice was almost a growl and the determination in it hit me like a shockwave. I wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more – me or him – but I nodded somberly, regardless. There were more questions, all of which I answered with practiced control. Many of them brought back memories I was still trying to lock away, but he was patient as I sorted through the panic. It certainly didn't hurt to have him there.

My protector.

Hours passed and I found myself in the kitchen, searching for food absently. I wasn't hungry, but eating had become a comforting practice in the past few months, so there I was. I knew my presence would garner of the attention of the patrolmen watching the house, but it was inevitable, so I just let it go.

"Can I do anything for you ma'am?"

I turned around sharply, my heart leaping out of my chest in response to his startling inquiry. My eyes narrowed to focus on the officer's name badge as I steadied myself.

"Officer Wylus, you startled me."

He tipped his hat apologetically, further eluding to his Southern roots in addition to his light drawl laced through his words. "Apologies, ma'am. Name's Kevin. Just wanted to see'f you needed anything." Kevin's cool smile was reassuring and his entire demeanor was calming. Perhaps it was because he reminded me so much of my mom's family, but I felt comfortable around him. It also didn't hurt that he was around six-foot-two, had nicely toned arms, and had to be in his late twenties to early thirties. After all, who didn't like an older man in uniform just a little bit?

"I could use some company while I eat."

I can assure you that wasn't my attempt at coming onto him. I just really couldn't stand being alone anymore. I _needed_ some human contact, even if it was some cop watching TV with me while I munched on popcorn. After all, he was a cop.

Surely he could protect himself if _he _came after him.

I woke up about five hours later to the sound of hushed, yet angry voices. Well, one was angry, the other was defensive. Apparently I had fallen asleep on Officer Wylus' shoulder and he, being kind, hadn't wanted to wake me. However, when his superior officer had come around, well, the sight hadn't been a welcomed one.

The quilt that I had been swaddled in fell to the floor as I rose from the couch, but the two men had vanished before I could interject to defend him. Loneliness set back in before I could even fold the quilt back up. Perhaps fresh air would be a good remedy. That was the only though going through my mind as I pulled back the sliding glass door. I could only hope the policeman standing on the other side would move before I knocked him over with the movement of the door.

Instead, he toppled backwards and landed lifelessly at my feet, throat slit from ear to ear.

My hands clapped over my mouth to cut off the shriek of fear that was ripped from my lungs. The tears started to fall as I backed away on slowly weakening legs. Instead of finding the stool to lean against, however, there was a warm body behind me. I spun around quickly as panic gripped my throat and stole my breath. My hands planted against his chest desperately as larger ones closed around my wrists to restrain me.

"It's ok. It's ok. I've got you."

Those same words that I heard through my disillusionment so long ago served to calm me quickly.

My rescuer.

Hotch pulled my along with him into the den, calling for back up in a hushed tone. I forced myself to stay silent, but I couldn't stop my shaking. From what I could hear, there were only two cops left – Wylus and the superior officer named Morrison. Everyone else was dead. The remaining members of the BAU team would be there along with SWAT but they were an hour away.

I sat back with an empty look on my face as my mind raced through everything that had happened. The BAU were now sure that their 'UnSub' was someone assigned to protect me.

Fear surged through me again as I put everything together. Morrisson had become angry with Wylus when he was near me. He had been away long enough to kill everyone but Wylus.

And now he had to die because he kept me company.

"Oh God… It's Morrisson. And he took Wylus."

Agent Hotchner relayed this to his teammates before ushering me out of the room. "We're getting out of here." Our footsteps were quick and echoed quietly in the still night. We found the SUV… which had all four tires and the gas line slashed.

Back to our inevitable doom.

We made it through the doorway before Morrisson came staggering towards us. Hotch shoved me away as he leveled his gun at the man's chest. "Stop Morrisson! Get on your knees and put your hands on your head!"

Quickly, Morrisson dropped to his knees – but he didn't stop there. His entire body fell face down, lifeless before Hotch. Out of the fallen man's back there was a knife, bringing a perplexed look to both of our faces, but only momentarily.

"HOTCH!"

My warning came too late as the butt of a gun crashed against the raven haired agent's skull, sending him to the ground, unconscious, with a sickening crack.

"Hello, Annie."

My heart stopped as I turned towards the man whom I had trusted mere hours ago. The Southern drawl was gone, replaced by the huff I had heard so often. His soft demeanor was replaced by the crude manner he was accustomed to. His eyes rested upon me with a violent lustfulness that instilled fear deep in my heart.

"_You…_"

It was _him._

It was Officer Kevin Wylus.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Please Note I do not own Criminal Minds, any of the characters, or any other copyrighted content that appears in this story. This is just based off my own personal musings after a vivid dream after watching the show. Rated T for Language and Intense Content.**_

_**This is the final chapter. Enjoy!**_

All I could hear was buzzing as a numbing heat washed over my body. It took every ounce of will power I had not to pass out – most of it was driven by a need to keep Aaron Hotchner alive. I didn't know how I was keeping either of us alive, but I was determined to be useful somehow.

Quickly, I lunged for Agent Hotchner's discarded weapon, but was cut off by a dissuading 'tut-tut-tut' from _him. _From Kevin. "Not a good idea, dear. Besides, you and I both know you have no idea how to use that thing." His words and the confidence he spoke them with sent a chill down my spine. How could he know me so intimately to know that I didn't know how to fire the only weapon that could possibly save me?

Then again, I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering the fact that he had found me inside the fucking safe house. Still, I couldn't just resign myself to accepting I was screwed. "What do you want from me?" My voice was desperate, pleading with him to just tell me _why, _but all he did was grin and keep his gun pointed at Hotch. "Just let him go. I'll go with you willingly if you don't kill him."

There was an annoyed grunt from Hotch as he stirred, which was washed out by Kevin's sick laughter. "You're going with me either way, so try again." There was that confident smirk stretched across his face, making me feel sick. All I had to do was make it another fifty five minutes before back up arrived.

Fifty five minutes until we could have a chance to be safe.

"Just put the gun down, Wyles. You're not getting out of here." Hotch's gravelly voice drifted up to us as he pushed himself up to his knees. The steady stream of blood leaking from just above his ear made me sick, but at least he was conscious.

Kevin moved confidently towards the FBI agent before placing the gun held firmly in his hand under Hotch's chin. "Is that so? Who's going to stop me? You?" I could see the desire to knock out Kevin's teeth flash across Hotch's face as the bastard smiled at him, but he didn't move other than to get to his feet as Kevin motioned for him to move.

We shuffled into the basement – why this house had a basement I couldn't tell you – before Kevin locked the three of us down there.

"Sit."

Shakily I obeyed him and watched as Hotch did the same reluctantly. "Please… don't do this… just let us go." It took everything I had not to break down into pathetic sobs and whimpers for mercy.

Anger flashed across his face and I realized I had forgotten his rules, but the realization was too late. That was the first time he hit me, this time across my face, drawing blood from the corner of my mouth. Hotch moved, but only got so far before the gun moved to aim at him again. "She knew the rules, Agent Hotchner. She pays the price."

There was some kind of heated exchange between them –Aaron was using his profiling tricks to try to calm Kevin but the psycho wasn't having it. I could see it in his eyes that he was ready to break, to kill my rescuer.

And this is where I am right now. Sitting here, watching as my last hope is about to be snuffed out.

I won't tell you I'm not scared; I'm scared as hell. But I can't let one more person die for me. "S… sir." My voice is shaking so bad, but I can't concern myself with that. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll… I'll behave." The words are like poison – like bile – in my mouth, but I say them to capture his attention. "I'm ready to go, sir." The tears threaten to fall, but I blink them back quickly and force the brave front to stay undamaged.

"And I wonder what could possibly be motivating you to make this willing decision." His voice slices through me, telling me to curl up and pray, but I keep pushing. "Because you won. You've got me and I'm tired of running. Just take me and leave him so we can go, please." I keep my voice soft as to not anger him.

We have twenty minutes until someone comes for us and I have to keep him occupied, because him being occupied with Hotchner means him killing him. Slowly. "Why don't we just stay here? It's nice to have company." Kevin hits Hotch again, stunning him long enough to handcuff the slightly bloodied FBI agent to the piping running through the basement. I couldn't keep myself from reacting to Kevin hitting Aaron, which only put a smile on the bastard's face.

My heart starts racing as he moves towards me and my breathing has stopped all together before he even reaches me. I can hear Hotch yelling at him but my brain refuses to process what he's saying. I close my eyes tightly as he brushes the pad of his thumb across my cheek. As he inhales the scent of my hair, I can't keep from shuddering and a singly tear escapes from my lashes. I have to try to brace myself for the punishment, but… augh… he hit me so hard in me sternum I can't pull enough air into my lungs.

I'm so dizzy… he has to let me off with just – … I wasn't expecting him to backhand me across my jaw hard enough to make it pop. More tears are stinging my eyes but I don't even whimper and I certainly don't look over at Hotch who is struggling in the cuffs, mouthing the words 'ten minutes' to me. He may have been trying to help, but ten minutes is a lifetime when you're being beaten.

Still, I'm doing my best to be silent. It doesn't seem to be good enough because he has his hands… round… my throat… and my… vi… sion… is… BLACK!

He was kind enough to let go just in time to put his fist in my gut, which actually made me blackout for a bit. My chest is on fire and my brain is trying to explode through my skull, pulsing in rhythm with the beating of my heart, but at least I'm alive, right? I opened my eyes just in time to see him pull away from me and now I've somehow made it to my feet. "Sss… orry sirrr…" He turns back towards me, indifference in his eyes.

Five minutes… keep him for five minutes…

Kevin just stares at me, angry that I'm still not broken. "Just… tell me… _why_…"

"Because you're the one who got away… the only one. You're special."

His smile… that _fucking_ smile pushes me to the point where I can't take it. The taunting and demeaning look in his eyes… I am moving towards him before I even realize it. The gun moves from Hotch and towards me, but not quick enough as I tackle him to the ground. He's much stronger than me and I'm light headed, but I keep fighting.

Out of desperation I bite the hand holding the gun, causing him to let go. However, this frees up his free hand to repeatedly punch me in the face. I can just barely hear the sound of Hotch trying to get out of the cuffs more violently over the cracking of my nose as it breaks.

The room is spinning and my attempts at defending myself become more and more pathetic. I'm not sure if it's because I'm just running out of energy or if I'm running out of life. Most of my energy is spent trying not to choke on the blood pouring from my nose.

Again his hands find my throat, but instead of squeezing he pulls me forward before slamming my head against the cement floor – I'm… I can't see… please God let it be temporary… I've got thirty seconds.

The tears are finally falling as he grips me by the back of my aching head and uses his other hand to squeeze my jaw before pulling my face towards him.

"Say hello to the other girls for me."

I can feel his muscles tightening and he's forcing me to move and my head is turning sharply and I can hear the heavy door being splintered by the heavy kick of an agent and a smile appears on my face. It doesn't last long because I can feel his hands pulling and my neck turns violently and I—


End file.
